


in your wildest dreams.

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rimming, another self-indulgent fic yay me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam can't stop thinking about Harry's arse.</p><p>(Really, that's essentially the whole story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	in your wildest dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Another horribly self-indulgent fic thanks to Sam. I don't have anything else to say except for this is VERY self-indulgent, and I'm a bad person. Obligatory: this never happened, it's very self-indulgent, it's hastily beta'd, and I'm very tired, so I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> tumblr: @trishanthemum :)

It all started with Harry’s wardrobe. 

See, Liam wasn’t supposed to notice those sorts of things. He wasn’t the observant one like Zayn, nor did he obsess over clothes and outfits in the same way that Louis did. But when Harry stopped wearing the slouchy, baggy jeans, the ones that sagged around his flat bum, the ones that made his legs look shorter than they really were, the ones that bunched up around his crotch, Liam noticed. 

Liam noticed because, well, Harry wasn’t exactly what he had expected. As Harry’s clothes became tighter, Liam noticed a lot more. He noticed how long Harry’s legs were, though he had been privy to that information previously because Harry liked to be naked as often as he could. But, really, his legs were _long;_ they were thin and perfect and—Liam could’ve written poems or sonnets or songs about Harry’s legs, he really could have, but he didn’t have a way with words the way that Zayn did or the talent with a guitar that Niall did. 

(He would’ve _tried,_ but it would’ve been disastrous.)

He prided himself on expecting the unexpected, thinking about all possible outcomes and the like. It’s why the boys teased him with the nickname Daddy Direction, or whatever their nickname was for him at the time—because he was sensible and logical. And it didn’t make sense that Harry was hiding _an arse_ underneath the baggy jeans, and it definitely wasn’t logical. And it wasn’t as if Liam spent a lot of time looking at Harry’s bum when it was glad in loose denim and slouchy khakis, he really _didn’t._ But when Harry’s wardrobe began to consist mainly of tight skinny jeans (jeggings, really, because they were _so tight_ ), he couldn’t help but notice the way the fabric hugged the gentle curve of his arse. And _fuck,_ did Harry have an _arse._

It was insane, really, because Harry was tiny. He was tall, yes, but he was thin and angular, and his arms were probably the only muscular part of his body. He had abs, but not in the way that Liam had abs. And while Louis prided himself on having the ‘most fantastic arse in the whole band, _honestly,_ ’ Liam couldn’t help but thing how completely and utterly wrong it was because, no, Louis did _not_ have the best arse. Liam would put money on that, because he found himself looking at Harry’s bum whenever he could.

(Which was actually a lot, not that he was going to admit it.)

And, okay, Liam looked at Harry’s bum a lot. It was probably unhealthy, the obsession that was starting. (Or, well, the obsession that had been taking over Liam’s mind for almost a year, but—semantics, really.) Whether they were onstage or in an interview, Liam noticed. He noticed the way Harry’s legs got a little more toned, but they were still wiry, and if he wanked at night to wondering what they would feel like around his waist, well, no one had to know. And if Liam found himself staring at Harry’s bum during costume changes for photo shoots or between songs during a show, he would swear that he had drifted off and was staring at nothing. 

(Not that the boys would really care if he was staring at Harry’s arse, because Zayn touched it more than anyone on a daily basis which—wow, Liam was quite jealous of that. He just didn’t want it to become A Thing, and Louis would’ve totally made it A Thing because he was a prick like that.)

But it was probably when they were filming the video for Best Song Ever, working on the choreography (which, really, it shouldn’t have been been considered _choreography_ because it was a couple of pelvic thrusts and the like), and Liam couldn’t stop watching Harry. He couldn’t stop watching the way he shook his bum, thrusting his hips and laughing with Louis and Niall when one of them messed up—because someone _always_ did. And normally Liam would’ve been encouraging them to work harder with a gentle ‘let’s get it right this time, lads’ but the more they messed up, the longer he got to watch Harry.

It was an easy decision.

(When Liam watched the playback later, he might’ve thought briefly about how Harry’s bum was just the right shape, the right size, and he might’ve wondered how it would feel to hold him up, wondering if he would fit in his hands perfectly. He kind of guessed that he would, and he really wanted to test his theory, but he knew it was probably a bad idea. But, hell, it was getting a lot more difficult to not touch Harry’s bum whenever he saw it. Really. He was showing fantastic self-restraint and he definitely deserved an award of some sort for that.)

And then the dreams started.

It felt so juvenile to say "wet dreams" even though Liam woke up on more than one occasion, cock hard against the stomach, leaking at the tip, hesitating for a fraction of a second before he got himself off just thinking about the way Harry would look bent over in front of him. (They were always the most satisfying and shameful orgasms, but Liam was starting to accept the bad with the good. And it wasn't like he was _telling_ anyone that he often dreamt of having Harry bent over a couch or a table or a car or _whatever_ while Liam came on his arse. Honestly.)

And it's not like Liam _asked_ for the dreams, and he definitely couldn't control them.

(If he could, it would've been a lot more naked Harry with his arse in Liam's face and—okay, when did _that_ become something he wanted?)

But it wasn't Liam's fault. It was Harry's because he didn't _have_ to wear jeans so tight that Liam wondered how he would remove them from Harry quickly if given the opportunity. (He decided that he would just get them past his bum, bunching up around his thighs, just enough to expose him and just enough for Liam to get a handful—or a mouthful, he wasn't picky.)

Liam wasn’t a big fan of clubbing. He liked to dance as much as the next lad and, well, the occasional beer was _alright._ But Liam didn’t like to make it a habit. He liked structure and order and being on time and the like. The lads never ceased teasing him about it, but Liam was used to it. However every now and then they could convince him (harass was a more appropriate term, actually) to go out and let loose, though that mainly consisted of Liam nursing one to three beers and watching as the lads drank and danced until they couldn’t stand. (And he wasn’t complaining, not exactly, because Harry had chosen to wear a pair of jeans so tight that Liam actually wondered how he could breathe— _shit._ And Harry was drunk, wildly so, grinding on Louis and Zayn and a giggling Niall, jeans stretching tight against his bum, and Liam couldn’t avert his eyes even if he _wanted to._ ) (He didn’t.)

(Liam left early that night, running home to a cold shower that didn’t help, and he finally gave in, wanking to the thought of his hands cupping Harry’s bum, grinding against him until they both came in their jeans, or Liam holding Harry against the wall or, well, _anything_ really because Harry was the only thing that Liam actually found himself thinking about.) 

And Liam was _on edge._ He spent about ninety percent of the time thinking about Harry’s bum (touching it, rubbing against it, fucking it, _licking_ it—Christ, where did that come from? He couldn’t stop thinking about it) and the other ten percent of the time was trying not to look like he was thinking about Harry’s bum. 

He wasn’t that convincing, and Zayn was the first one to catch on, the observant little shit.

“Getting’ your daily dose of Hazza’s arse?”

Liam jumped from where he was sitting, nearly dropping his mobile on the floor, and he flushed. “What?”

Zayn grinned, sitting down on the couch next to Liam, swinging his feet over his mate’s lap. 

They were in the middle of an old warehouse, one that had been slightly refurbished just for their photo shoot that afternoon, and even though they had about four fans pointed towards them at any given moment, Liam was still on fire. Though that probably had more to do with the fact that it was July and they were in the middle of Texas. 

“He’s got to be blind not to notice you starin’ at him all day,” Zayn grumbled.

“I don’t stare at him,” Liam protested, but weakly, because…yeah, he kind of did.

Zayn scoffed. “Ya got to be kidding me, Li. It’s obvious.”

“Is it?”

“Well, not to Louis or Niall but, let’s be honest—they’re thicker than molasses,” he said. 

Liam sighed. 

“Don’t see why you keep staring. He’s hardly got an arse—“

“Are we looking at the same bum?” Liam asked, affronted and only slightly offended. Though, he really had no right to be offended, because Zayn wasn’t even insulting Liam’s arse. But he was insulting Harry’s and Liam _did_ take that personally because he’d invested enough time in Harry’s arse and— Well, nothing would make his argument sound better, so he probably shouldn’t have tried. 

Zayn smiled, tongue between his teeth and eyebrows arching, and he nodded slowly. “So you are staring.”

“No,” Liam said quickly. 

“Liam, you’ve been staring—“

“Keep quiet or he’ll hear you,” he snapped. 

Zayn laughed, hips arching off the couch for a second so he could pull his mobile out of his pocket. The light guys were still working on something so Zayn knew he had some to kill. “Sorry.”

“You are not.”

“If you’re gon’ stare at someone’s arse, at least make it Lou’s, yeah?”

Liam scoffed. “Are we seriously going to compare bums?” he asked.

“We’re comparing bums? Does mine make the cut?” Harry asked, bouncing over towards them, curls pushed behind another god-awful headband that he had taken to wearing that made Liam want to rip it out of his hair. 

Zayn smiled. “Funny you ask that Haz.”

“It doesn’t,” Liam told him, but he was smiling just a little bit, so Harry wouldn’t take it _too_ personally.

Harry pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why not?”

“Yeah, why not Li?” Zayn asked with a grin of his own.

Liam resisted the urge to glare at Zayn and he settled for shrugging. “Maybe it’s not what we’re looking for.”

“Did Louis’ make the cut?” Harry asked with a frown. 

“Yup,” Zayn announced at the same time that Liam protested. 

“Why does everyone think Louis’ bum is better than mine?” Harry asked, pouting. “I mean, look at it!” he said, turning around and sticking his bum out.

Liam froze in place, eyes wide as Harry wiggled his bum in front of his and Zayn’s face. “I—“

“Louis, get over here!” Harry yelled, straightening his back, cocking a hip to the side as he waited for Louis.

Liam glanced over at Zayn, who was red-faced from trying not to laugh. 

Zayn reached over and tapped Liam’s jaw. “Get it off the floor, mate.”

“I didn’t—“

“You called?” Louis practically sang, strutting over towards them.

“Liam thinks your arse is better than mine, and I want to prove him wrong,” Harry explained.

“I didn’t _say_ that,” Liam protested.

“Oh, you’re on, Styles. We all know my bum is far superior,” Louis said. “Take a look for yourself.”

“Why am I the judge of this?” Liam asked.

Zayn held up his hands. “I didn’t say Louis’ arse was better.”

“Yes, you did!” Liam said with a shriek. “That was our exact conversation!”

“So you really think mine is better?” Harry asked with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I didn’t—“

“Enough of that,” Louis interrupted. “One final test. Go on, Li. Touch it.”

Liam blanched. “What?”

Louis stuck his bum out, wiggling it slightly. “Touch it, Li. It’s the only way to know for sure.”

“Wait, wait,” Harry said slowly. “What are we judging on? Is it just Liam’s preference? Maybe he likes smaller bums or firm bums or—“

“Good point, Harry,” Louis said with a nod. “What are the parameters for such a contest?”

Liam laughed, shaking his head. “This isn’t actually happening.”

“It is,” Zayn affirmed with a nod. “How about firmness?” he suggested.

Louis smiled, snapping his fingers. “Brilliant idea, Zayn. There’s no way I can lose now.”

“Niall, get over here! We’re judging bums!” Zayn called out. 

“Whose bums are we judging?” Niall asked, walking over to them slowly.

“Mine and Harry’s,” Louis said with a shrug.

Niall frowned. “That’s no fun.”

“Of course it is,” Zayn said with a wide grin. “Liam’s the judge.”

Niall’s frown broke and he found himself laughing, sitting down on the couch next to Liam. “Alright, let’s start. “

“Me first,” Louis said, resuming his previous position, bent slightly at the waist, tugging his jeans a little further over his hips. “Touch away. Caress if you must.”

Liam sucked in a deep breath and Zayn grabbed his arm, forcing his hand out towards Louis, and Liam hesitantly rested his hand on the curve of Louis’ arse.

Louis sighed, wiggling his hips backwards. “C’mon, Li, s’not gonna bite you.”

“But you can bite it if you want to,” Zayn said with a grin.

“Shut up, Zayn,” Liam snapped, carefully running his hand over Louis’ arse for less than five seconds before he pulled his hand away. “That was nice, Lou, thanks,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t even _really_ touch it!” Louis protested, reaching behind him to grab both of Liam’s hands and he placed them firmly on his arse. “Now touch it, really.”

Liam groaned as he forced himself to squeeze Louis’ arse, pulling away the minute he saw Louis nod and grin. “That was nice,” he repeated.

“I know,” Louis said, turning around and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re up, Harry. Prepare for defeat.”

Harry rolled his eyes, tugging off his headband and shaking his curls out. He put the headband back on, running a hand over his nose. “I never lose,” he said.

Louis scoffed. “You lose all the time.”

“Not this time,” he corrected with a pout. He stepped in front of Liam, nudging Louis to the side, and he grabbed the hem of his jeans, sliding them up just a little bit before bending over at the waist, presenting himself to Liam. “Go on.”

Liam’s breath caught in this throat and—wow, okay, Harry’s arse was right in front of his face. That was something he definitely never thought would actually happen. And he knew he was going to have to physically restrain himself from doing anything too embarrassing. But it was pretty much useless because where it took Zayn forcing his hands towards Louis’ bum, he reached out for Harry’s on his own, cupping both cheeks with his hands and—yeah, he knew it. His hands were the perfect size for Harry’s bum, and he wondered what it would look like if Harry’s pants were twisted around his thighs, Liam’s tan fingers digging into the pale flesh as Harry pushed back against him and—

No. He couldn’t be thinking about _that._ Not yet, anyway. 

“C’mon, Li, don’t just graze it,” Louis said with a sigh.

“Would you rather do it?” Liam asked, even though a voice inside of his head was screaming no, no, and _no_ because he didn’t want Louis near Harry’s arse _at all._

Louis rolled his eyes. “Well?”

Liam kneaded the flesh quickly before pulling his hands away, placing them firmly in his lap. “Thank you, Harry, that was also nice,” he told him.

Harry turned around, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes wide. “Well? Who won?”

Liam pursed his lips.

“Yeah, who won?” Niall asked. “I don’t know why I care, but I apparently do.”

Zayn grinned, throwing an arm on the couch around Liam’s neck. “Yeah, Li. Why don’t you tell us who won?” 

Liam glared at Zayn, narrowing his eyes and almost wishing he could set someone on fire with just a thought. But then he was glad he couldn’t, because Zayn was a good lad, his best mate, but he just had a certain penchant for embarrassing Liam whenever he could (which was almost always). “Harry,” he said quickly, standing up and brushing past both Harry and Louis without looking at either of them, and he escaped to the bathroom. 

He locked the door behind him and sunk against the door, sucking in a deep breath. He knew he didn’t have time, but that didn’t stop him from unzipping his jeans, pushing them down just far enough to pull out his cock, and he prayed that none of the lads had noticed his semi as he walked by. But he didn’t even care, not really, he just shut his eyes and jerked himself off quicker than he ever had before, biting his lip to remain silent, and he came embarrassingly fast just at the thought of Harry’s bare arse right in front of him and—

Yeah, he definitely had a problem. 

 

+

 

Liam knew he had to stop getting himself into awkward situations with Harry, he knew he did, but he wasn’t sure _how._ Especially because Zayn had apparently made it his mission to create as many awkward situations as humanly possible. 

(And there were _a lot._ )

But on the other hand, Liam was getting a lot better at controlling his raging teenage hormones. He wasn’t quite so worried about sporting a semi every time Harry walked around the room in naught but a towel (well, he was _worried_ because, hell, Harry was gorgeous, all long lines and limbs and the perfect amount of muscle and—well, the list went on, really) or when they got changed after a show. He wasn’t even completely worried during interviews when Zayn made sure the only place Harry _could_ be was on Liam’s lap or the floor. And Liam, bless, was a good friend and he would never make Harry sit on the floor—even if that meant sacrificing himself to a good hour with a wiggling and fidgeting Harry Styles on his lap.

(It really wasn’t a sacrifice. It would’ve been perfect had Harry and Liam both been naked and Harry sitting _just a little_ further back on his lap. That would’ve been perfect.)

And Liam had good luck, or he at least _thought_ he did, but he really didn’t, obviously, because it was Zayn’s idea for them to drink after the show. Not going to a club, because that would’ve been too much effort, instead they ended up back in Zayn’s hotel room getting drunk on whatever shitty liquor was being passed between them. 

Liam was sober, opting for water instead of alcohol because they had a show the next day, and a meet and greet, and a radio interview, and he wanted to be ready for it, which only caused Zayn to roll his eyes and pat him fondly on the shoulder. Louis and Niall appeared to be in some sort of drinking contest, as per usual, because Louis wanted to be the best at everything and Niall just…liked to drink. Zayn was apparently in charge of their drinking contest, though that actually just consisted of nursing a couple of beers and rolling his eyes every time Niall and Louis started to argue. And Harry, Harry was apparently trying to drive Liam crazy, because he had ditched his shirt after his second beer and was trying to climb onto Liam’s lap, begging for a cuddle.

(Liam wasn’t planning on saying no, but he didn’t want to give in to Harry’s big eyes and pout and _dimple_ so easily—he never would’ve lived it down.) 

“Leeeeeeyum,” Harry drew out, voice low as he grappled for Liam’s hands. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“M’not ignoring you, Haz,” Liam told him.

Harry pouted, sitting back and crossing his legs on the couch. “You’re not cuddling me. You should be cuddling me.”

“How drunk are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ve had…just a little,” he told him with a shrug. “You’re not blurry or anything, so m’not _drunk._ ”

Liam smiled, patting Harry on the shoulder. “If you say so, Haz.”

“I _do_ say so,” Harry told him with a nod, wrapping his arms around Liam’s neck and trying to pull him closer.

Liam lost his balance slightly, reaching out to grip the edge of the couch, but Harry’s limbs were flying and he kicked Liam’s arm out the way. And, well, that was how Liam ended up sprawled out on the couch between the legs of a very giggly Harry Styles. It wasn’t ideal but, well, Liam could work with it. “Hazza—“

Harry interrupted him with a loud giggle, arms still around Liam’s neck. “Didn’t mean for that to happen,” he told him.

Liam tried to frown, tried to be cross, but he couldn’t, not exactly, not when Harry’s eyes were so bright with laughter, his mouth open in a wide grin that seemed to encompass his entire face. Liam couldn’t be mad, and he found himself laughing along with him, head dropping against Harry’s bare chest to hide his flushing cheeks, which didn’t exactly help matters at all.

“What are you two giggling about?” Louis asked sharply, narrowing his eyes towards them.

Harry laughed again and tightened his hold around Liam’s neck. “Nothin,” he said innocently, but his smile gave it away.

Liam bit the inside of his cheek and sat up, Harry’s arms falling from his neck and he studiously ignored the pout on his face. “Who’s winning the drinking contest?”

“I am,” Niall said, raising both arms over his head. “I’m the champion!”

Louis reached out and smacked his stomach, causing Niall to double over with a mixture of a laugh and a groan escaping his lips. “He’s not winning. We’re tied,” he insisted. “Right, Zayn?”

“Sure,” Zayn said with a shrug. “Whatever you say, Lou.”

“Take me back to my room, Liam, m’tired,” Harry said, rubbing his hands over his face. He was still smiling, his legs wrapped around Liam’s waist, and he tried to tug Liam a little bit closer to him, but he failed. He settled for pouting again, poking Liam in the chest until he responded.

“Okay, Haz, just stop poking me,” he said with a laugh, knocking Harry’s hand away.

Zayn snorted.

Liam sent Zayn a glare, something he was _all too used to_ lately, and he stood up, reaching for Harry’s hand.

Harry stood up on the couch, wobbling slightly, and whether it was due to the alcohol in his system or the fact that he was just _clumsy,_ Liam wasn’t sure. “Carry me,” he pouted, throwing his arms around Liam’s waist and falling against his chest carelessly.

Liam sputtered and threw an arm under Harry’s legs, the other behind his back, holding him bridal style because Harry was a little shit and didn’t give Liam any other choice. He rolled his eyes as Harry giggled against his neck. “Sorry, lads, don’t have much of a choice.”

“Right,” Zayn drew out, leveling Harry with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Liam frowned and he would’ve flipped him off, but both of his hands were occupied. 

“I see Harry gets special treatment,” Louis said. “You never carry me to my room.”

“You’re not as petulant as Harry is,” Zayn told him.

“I’m not _petulant._ ”

“Yeah? What does it mean?” Zayn asked, patronizing.

Liam sighed. “Lads—“

“Let them argue,” Harry told him quietly. “Makes it easier for us to sneak out.”

And, well, he had a point. He ignored the bitch fight that was taking place between Zayn and Louis and used that time to slip out of the room. He carried Harry down the hall as quickly as he couldn’t; it wasn’t that Harry was heavy, because he wasn’t, but he was fidgeting around Liam like he was trying to crawl into his skin and it was driving Liam _mad._ He stopped outside Harry’s door and frowned. “Where’s your key card?”

“Back pocket,” Harry said, lifting his hip and tightening his hold around Liam’s neck. 

“Haz, I won’t be able to hold you and—“

“Yes, you will,” he told him.

Liam bit the inside of his cheek and slid his hand from Harry’s lower back into his pocket, pulling out the thin strip of plastic and trying really, really hard to not let himself linger. Harry nuzzled the side of his neck and Liam knew he was going mad because he could’ve sworn he felt Harry’s breath hitch, a barely audible gasp leaving his lips. Because no, that wasn’t happening, and it wouldn’t happen, and Liam just wanted to deposit Harry into bed with a bottle of water and go back to his own room where he could suffer in silence.

“Liam,” Harry whined. “Why are we still in the hallway?”

“Because I don’t have four arms, Harry,” he replied tersely, propping his hip up to hold Harry while he unlocked the door, nudging it open with his foot. He set Harry down and kicked the door shut before trying to disentangle himself from Harry’s grasp. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Good plan,” Harry said, pulling Liam closer, and their lips were pressed together before Liam even knew what was happening.

His first instinct was to kiss Harry within an inch of his life. But no, Liam was sensible and logical and—he couldn’t. But he wanted to. It took him about ten seconds of Harry pushing him back towards the door before he pulled away, gasping for air. “Harry—“

Harry groaned, rolling his eyes. “What?”

“We—“

“If you say we shouldn’t, m’gonna freak out,” Harry told him, sounding more sober than he had all night. His cheeks were flushed and he was frowning, a far cry from the giggly and happy Harry that had been in Liam’s arms thirty seconds prior.

“You’re not drunk,” Liam muttered, his tone accusing.

Harry shook his head.

“You—“

“Want to kiss you, really badly,” Harry interrupted with a soft smile. “Have for a while. So can I?”

“You’re asking if you can kiss me?”

Harry shrugged. “Guess so.”

Liam gave in, because he couldn’t _not._ And Liam didn’t usually remember first kisses, or categorize them, or rate them, or even really _think_ about them. Because lately his life had become less about romance and more about getting off, but Harry… Harry was the exception, and it wasn’t even a surprise, and Liam found himself remembering ever little detail, from the way Harry’s fingers curled around his biceps to the way he moaned deep in his throat when Liam’s lips found the sensitive skin of his neck and collarbone.

And that was how it _really started._

Well, it _really started_ the next morning when Liam woke up, his chest pressed against Harry’s back, his bum grinding against Liam’s crotch and— That just made it worse, really, especially when Harry pushed his pants over his hips and whispered for Liam to do something, anything. Liam gave in, because he no longer had a reason to hold himself back, and he gripped Harry’s hip tightly as he rubbed himself off quickly, cock firmly pressed between Harry’s cheeks.

And if Liam said that wasn’t the best orgasm of his life, he would’ve been lying.

(But he wasn’t a liar.)

 

\+ 

 

Harry giggled. He was a _giggler._ And that wasn’t a bad thing, it really wasn’t; Liam had always thought it was kind-of-sort-of-maybe-really-fucking-adorable. And he still did. But he didn’t expect Harry to be giggling while he was attempting to go down on him.

“Harry—“

“Sorry, Li, it just _tickles,_ ” Harry said with a loud giggle. He cleared his throat, fingers digging into the sheets. “I’ll stop, I promise.”

Liam shook his head, exhaling a breath in a slight sigh, and he felt Harry’s thighs twitch between his fingertips and another giggle escaped his throat. 

“I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay, Harry,” Liam said quietly. He rubbed his thumbs along the bone of Harry’s hips, tracing the v-line underneath the tanned skin. 

Harry hummed as Liam’s fingertips massaged his bare skin, and he threaded his fingers through Liam’s short hair. He felt Liam’s breath ghost over his thigh and he felt his muscles clench. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to giggle and trying not to move, but as Liam’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock, his fingertips slipping further down his thigh, a loud laugh escaped him.

Liam pulled away, tongue running over his bottom lip, and he sighed. “Is this gonna happen every time I try to go down on you?”

Harry squirmed underneath him, flush high in his cheeks, and he bit his lip. “No?” he said with a small shrug and a wide grin, unable to contain it any longer.

“Harry—“

“I can’t help it!” Harry told him with a pout. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No, m’not mad,” Liam promised him. 

“Good.”

Liam climbed up the length of Harry’s body and pressed their lips together. 

“You sure?”

“I’d like to actually succeed in giving you a blowjob some day, but I’m not mad,” he told him. 

“I’ll work on it.”

“We’ll work on it,” Liam promised. “Together.”

 

+

 

Until it happened again. 

And again.

And, well, it probably happened a total of eight times before Liam was about to give up. After all, there was only so many times he could try to blow Harry until his incessant giggling killed the mood.

(Really, Liam didn’t mind making Harry giggle. He actually prided himself on it, even though his jokes weren’t exactly funny and Harry tended to laugh at nearly everything. He still felt a little trickle of pride when Harry would smile at his joke, dimple deepening, reaching over to grab Liam’s knee and squeeze it slightly. Liam liked it; he liked causing a reaction with Harry.)

But, it really was a mood killer.

“This isn’t working out,” Liam decided, pulling away from Harry with a wet _pop_ and a frown.

Harry sat up quickly, lacing his fingers behind Liam’s neck and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. “M’sorry, Li, I really am, I promise—“

“I know,” Liam interrupted softly. “I’m not mad. Just—“

“Want me to suck you? Please? I will. I want to. Want to show you how sorry I am,” he babbled, pressing kisses along the side of Liam’s face, his cheek, his jaw, the side of his neck, his ear.

Liam sucked in a deep breath as Harry’s lips and tongue made contact with the sensitive shell of his ear. His fingertips dug into Harry’s hips as his cock swelled up against his abdomen. Harry grinded up against him, their cocks sliding together, and he slid his left hand into the short hairs at the base of Liam’s head, teeth nipping at his earlobe. 

“Liam—“

“Fuck, Harry,” he groaned.

Harry giggled against the side of his neck, mouthing at the skin of his collarbone and towards the top of his shoulder. “C’mon, lemme suck you,” Harry whispered, voice low and deep.

Liam bit his bottom lip as his hands gripped Harry’s bum, pressing their cocks together. “Can I try something?”

“Yeah,” Harry said instantly, nodding, his curls bouncing.

“Turn over.”

Harry’s eyes slipped shut briefly but he nodded, disentangling his limbs from Liam’s and he turned over on the bed. He pulled a pillow towards his chest, collapsing on it, burying his face against the fabric. He felt Liam climb between his legs, his large hands resting firmly on his bum, thumbs pulling his cheeks apart. His face flushed and he was thankful that he couldn’t see Liam, because he wasn’t entirely sure that he could trust himself to not make some sort of embarrassing noise.

Liam hesitated as he stared at Harry and, wow, okay; he never thought he would have this sort of opportunity. It was completely… He didn’t even know what to _say._ If he thought Harry’s bum in tight jeans was a site, then there was nothing he could say about having his bare arse right in front of him. He chanced a glance down at Harry, whose head was buried against the pillow, and he pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry choked out, his cock throbbing painfully against the bed. Liam’s fingers were still pressed close, but not close _enough,_ and Harry wanted— _needed_ —more, but he didn’t know how to _say it._ “Liam—“ he whined.

“Yeah, Haz?” Liam asked, kissing down the soft skin of Harry’s spine, tongue tracing the dimples above his bum, as he hands massaged the soft flesh of his arse. 

Harry shuddered, pushing his hips back slightly against Liam, hoping he got the point. 

Liam nipped at the skin and he could feel Harry shake beneath him. He bit back a smile and slid his tongue slowly against his opening, feeling Harry’s thighs tense up beneath his hands. He gripped his thighs a little bit tighter, surprised when a sharp gasp escaped his lips in lieu of a giggle, and he repeated the action, sliding his tongue a little bit deeper, pushing past the rim to dip against his hole. 

“Oh my God, Li, so good, so—fuck, so—more, more, more,” Harry babbled against the pillow, arms going lax as he concentrated on pushing his hips back against Liam’s face. 

Liam wasn’t exactly a pro, but he knew Harry’s body; they’d been messing around for a couple of weeks and he felt confident in his ability to read Harry’s body language and know what he liked. And Harry _definitely_ liked this, and Liam wanted to make it good for him. He was a little sloppy, a little unsure, licking a long stripe against Harry’s hole.

“God—Fuck, Li, fuck, fuck,” Harry panted, pushing up enough to wrap his long fingers around his strained cock.

Liam moved a hand from Harry’s thigh, sliding one finger deep inside of him. Harry’s back arched as Liam focused on moving his finger in time with his tongue, slicking Harry up as the younger boy moaned beneath him. Liam released Harry’s bum with his other hand, briefly pressing it against his own cock before he slid a second finger inside of Harry, scissoring them, his tongue sliding between the v of his fingers.

Harry keened, working his cock furiously as Liam’s tongue and fingers tortured his hole, barely brushing against his prostate. “Fuck, Li—gonna—“ Harry came with a loud moan as Liam twisted his fingers deep, pushing against the little bundle of nerves, and he collapsed against the bed, fingers sticky.

“Fuck, Harry,” Liam groaned, pulling away.

“Want you to come on me, Li,” Harry said quietly.

“Harry—“

Harry rolled over slowly, hooking his feet around the back of Liam’s knees, and he arched his hips. “C’mon, come on me, Li,” he panted, his voice rough.

Liam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, wrapping his hands around his cock and jerking himself off quickly. It didn’t take much, and under any other circumstances, Liam probably would’ve been embarrassed how quickly he came, releasing over Harry’s pink and swollen hole.

Harry moaned, eyes slipping shut, a sated smile on his face.

Liam collapsed on the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and pulling him on top of him. Harry nuzzled against the side of his neck lazily, legs spreading so he could straddle Liam more comfortably. Liam watched him quietly, amazed at how innocent Harry looked, but the words that came out of his mouth— _shit._ He slid a hand down Harry’s back, a sound resembling a purr leaving Harry’s lips, and he traced the skin of Harry’s bum. Harry shifted, pushing back against Liam’s fingers. Liam traced the rim of Harry’s hole, fascinated with the way Harry’s body reacted to his touch, and he gathered up some of his come with his fingertips and pressed it into Harry’s hole.

Harry moaned softly against the side of Liam’s neck, digging his nails into his bicep, and he pushed his hips back. “Li—“

“Sorry,” Liam whispered, pressing his fingertip in just to the first knuckle. Harry was still tight, hot and wet, and Liam didn’t even know he had the stamina to go for another round, but maybe he could.

“S’too much,” Harry said quietly, sadly, with a pout. “Gimme a minute. Then you can fuck me, yeah?”

Liam laughed, pressing his lips against Harry’s temple. “You’re somethin’ else,” he told him fondly. 

Harry smiled widely, sliding against Liam’s side but he kept one leg over his waist. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe we should just do that instead of me trying to blow you,” he mused.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” Harry admitted, pressing a kiss to Liam’s shoulder. “Nap first. Fuck later.”

 

+

 

And Liam thought about it a lot. He still did, more than he did before, actually. Harry’s arse was constantly on his mind, and he was pretty sure that his obsession was a lot worse now that he’d gotten his hands (and mouth) on it. He thought about the soft skin, the way Harry’s thighs trembled under his hands whenever Liam’s breath ghosted over his hole, whenever his fingers brushed against his prostate.

“—and you’re not listening to a word I say.”

Liam shook his head, turning to look at Zayn, who was still lounging on the bed in Liam’s hotel room, feet crossed at the ankle and his phone resting on his stomach. “Sorry?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “You’ve been out of it lately, Li. What’s on your mind?”

 _Your bandmate’s arse._ “Nothing,” Liam said with a shrug. “What were you saying?” 

“Nothing,” Zayn told him with a sigh.

“What time’s our interview?”

“Aren’t you usually the one who knows these things?”

“Sorry,” Liam said with a shake of his head. “Been preoccupied.”

Zayn smirked, just a little. “Still thinkin’ about Harry’s arse?”

Liam knew he was flushing and, well, he couldn’t hide it. Zayn was _observant_ and, fuck, it was already obvious, so Liam just shrugged. “Maybe.”

Zayn laughed. “You’d do anything to touch it, wouldn’t ya? M’sure all you’d have to do is ask,” he told him with a shrug.

Liam bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t reply. There was nothing he could really say; he was almost positive Zayn wouldn’t appreciate hearing how hot and tight Harry’s arse was, or about the little whimpers he made when he was right on the edge, dying for Liam to push him over and bring him back and hold him until his vision cleared up and everything stopped being fuzzy. Zayn probably wouldn’t want to know how many fingers Harry could take up his arse before he was begging for Liam’s cock or his tongue, and he probably _really_ didn’t want to know that Liam could make Harry come twice in a row, but— Yeah, there was nothing that he could say that would make the situation look better.

“You’re bloody doing it _again,_ ” Zayn groaned. 

“What?” Liam asked with a frown.

“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking about.”

Liam laughed softly. “You really don’t,” he affirmed, standing up and smoothing out his jeans. “M’gonna go to Hazza’s room.”

“Don’t touch the bum,” Zayn warned him.

“Are you quoting Finding Nemo?”

Zayn paused. “No.”

Liam laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous. I’ll see you at the car.”

“Don’t be late.”

Liam nodded and left his hotel room, walking down the way until he got to Harry’s. He used the spare keycard that Harry slipped him the moment they got to the hotel and let himself in, jaw dropping when he saw Harry walking out of the bathroom, curls wet from the shower, wearing Liam’s batman shirt and—nothing else.

Harry’s eyes widened and he froze, pigeon-toed as Liam stared at him. “Hi.”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Yeah, um,” Harry shrugged, the fabric slipping further up his thighs and doing nothing to hide his cock. “S’comfortable. D’you mind?”

“No,” Liam answered instantly. “Fuck.”

Harry let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of the neck. The hem of Liam’s shirt slipped further up his thigh, exposing the soft skin of his thighs and his cock.

Liam instinctively licked his lips and clenched his fingers at his sides, the desire to reach out and touch Harry almost overwhelming him.

“M’gonna go put some pants on,” Harry said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” Liam told him, surprised by how deep his voice had gotten, and he crossed the room to press Harry against the wall by the bathroom door. “I like you like this.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, reaching for the hem of his shirt and lifting it up just a little bit more. His smile widened as Liam’s eyes drifted lower, his teeth biting at his lip, and Harry pressed his hips closer towards Liam. “Like me in your shirt? Smelling like you?”

Liam nodded, grabbing Harry’s hips and pressing him against the wall roughly. Harry gasped as Liam lifted him, his feet barely touching the floor, and he wrapped his legs around Liam’s waist, fingers curling against his biceps. “Fuck, you look so good,” he whispered, dropping his mouth to Harry’s neck to bite at the sensitive skin near his ear. 

Harry didn’t even try to hold back his moan as Liam’s tongue traced the shell of his ear. He felt Liam’s fingers ghost towards his cock, barely brushing over the tip before making their way back towards his hole. He tried to grind down against him, but Liam was holding onto him too tightly and he couldn’t get enough friction. “Liam—“

“Wanna eat you out so bad, Harry, fuck,” Liam groaned, brushing his fingertips against Harry’s rim in a path that his tongue wanted desperately to follow, but he didn’t have the time to tear Harry apart, not just yet. 

“Liam,” Harry whined.

“Like that, would yeah? Love feelin’ you clench around me, love the moans that you make when I’m licking you out,” he whispered slowly, barely brushing his fingers against Harry’s hole. His thumb dipped past the rim, earning a low hiss from Harry, and he just rested there, barely inside of him. And he wished he had the time, he did, he wished he had the time to lay Harry out and lick him open slowly until his thighs were trembling, wrapped around his shoulders, tears pricking his eyelids as he threaded his fingers through Liam’s hair and begged for release. But that, that would have to wait, and it wasn’t _fair,_ but Liam was still The Sensible One and knew he had to be wary of the time. 

“Yeah,” Harry panted with a nod. “Want your tongue in me, fuck, Liam—Please, want it _so_ bad.”

Liam smiled against his neck, using his fingers to hold Harry’s cheeks apart, and he brushed his thumb across his rim again. He could feel Harry’s thighs trembling from where he was holding him up, could practically see his chest rising and falling in time with his heavy breaths, and it was still a wonder to him that he could cause such a visceral reaction from Harry. And he wanted to see more of it—badly. “Think about this all the time,” he admitted quietly, slowly dipping his thumb in and out of Harry’s hole, brushing across the sensitive skin behind his balls. He could feel Harry’s cock pressed against his stomach, leaking against his shirt and he was definitely going to have to change before the interview. “Think about how you feel, how you taste, fuck, Harry, you taste incredible. Think about it all the time.”

“Tell me,” Harry whined, rocking back and forth against Liam’s abdomen and his hand as if his body couldn’t decide what it wanted more, pressure against his cock or in his arse. 

“Want to taste you for days, wanna lick you until you’re sobbing—“

“Again?” he asked weakly, his voice shaking.

Liam smiled, biting at Harry’s neck roughly. “Yeah,” he affirmed. “Think about that time you let me come on you, yeah? And then fucked you with my fingers and licked you out until he came twice. Remember that?”

“Fuck, _yes,_ Liam, I—“

“Harry—“ Liam slipped a finger into Harry’s tight hole, just up to the first knuckle, and the younger boy grinded down against him.

“Liam—“

The knock on the door interrupted what Liam was going to say next and he cursed loudly.

Harry whined, tightening his grip on Liam’s arms. “Don’t—“

“Car’s leaving in five!” Zayn yelled from the other side of the door.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Be right there!” he called back and he bit back a grown. “Gotta get ready, love.”

Harry shook his head wildly, eyes wide and blown with lust, and he tried to grind himself against Liam. “Li—“

Liam slid his hands down Harry’s thighs, smiling softly when a quiet giggle escaped Harry’s lips that he tried to bite back. He set Harry down on the floor and pulled off his own shirt, tossing it aside, and he walked over towards Harry’s suitcase, pulling on the first shirt he saw. “I’ll stall the car for a minute or two. Finish up, then join us, yeah?”

Harry pouted. “You’re leaving?”

“The car’s about to leave, Harry,” Liam pointed out.

“You’re leaving me like this?” he corrected, pointing down towards his strained cock, pressed against his stomach, precome leaking against Liam’s formerly pristine Batman shirt.

Liam bit his bottom lip and had to actively stop himself from not dropping to his knees for Harry. He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll take care of you later, I promise.”

Harry frowned. “But Li—“

Liam crossed the room again and pressed their lips together, kissing Harry soundly, licking into his mouth. Harry moaned against his lips and Liam pulled away slowly. “I’ll take care of you tonight,” he repeated before placing a firm slap on Harry’s arse and walking out of the room. And it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, truly, because he could never say _no_ to Harry, yet he did. And that gave him a little bit of a thrill, knowing that was probably jerking himself off frantically, thinking of Liam. And that was—that was something else.

 

+

 

Liam probably deserved it—something about karma, bad things happening to good people or some ridiculous cliché that he never paid attention to. Because the interview was long and Harry was perched on his lap, the back of his shirt riding up just slightly to expose the hem of his pants, peeking out from overtop of his tight jeans. Liam shifted slightly and Harry adjusted himself, straddling Liam’s lap, the microphone dangling from his hands. 

Liam’s hands rested on Harry’s hips during the course of the interview, and he tried to ignore the way that Harry squirmed against him. And it didn’t really help that Harry was borderline ignoring him the whole time. Liam normally liked interviews; it wasn’t the worst part about their career, even if it was always a boring repetition of the same questions and the same rehearsed answers that he could give in his sleep. 

Anyway—interviews weren’t bad. Except for this one. Because Liam was only a little bit preoccupied with the journey back to the hotel and exactly what he wanted to do to Harry. And it wasn’t a short list, so he was more than a little thankful for the fact that they had an evening off and no show until the next day.

But whatever, the interview went smoothly. Liam interjected his opinion in all the right places, laughed and made jokes, and studiously avoided any questions about his breakup with Dani, and things were great. Until, of course, Harry passed his microphone over to Niall so he could lean back next to Liam. It looked innocent enough, two band mates cuddling, because they all did it at some point, especially during interviews. But Harry was far from innocent, and Liam wasn’t a fool.

“Can’t wait to get back to the hotel,” Harry whispered against his ear.

Liam nodded slowly—he’d definitely been expecting _worse._

“Want you to eat me out until I’m wet enough for your dick, yeah?”

And yup— _there_ it was; that was precisely what Liam had been expecting. He cleared his throat, smiled towards the interviewer, and shifted Harry around a little on his lap to hide his semi. “Harry—“ he whispered, shaking his head.

Harry just smiled, throwing the interviewer off with an innocent response to whatever question Liam didn’t hear, and he wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulders. 

They looked like best mates—they _were_ best mates, but Liam was pretty sure most best mates didn’t spend all their time thinking about eating the other one out. (Or maybe they did, it’s not like Liam made it a habit to ask people what they thought about their best mates. Whatever.)

“Wanna feel you come on my hole and fuck me ‘til I can’t walk,” Harry told him, slipping his arm away from Liam’s shoulder to lean forward, perched on his knee, like nothing had even happened.

Liam swallowed, fingers tightening to Harry’s hips. And, well, two could play at that game, right? He ignored the pointed look that Zayn was giving him from the other end of the couch and leaned forward, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “How ‘bout you ride me instead?” he countered.

Harry froze on top of Liam, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Look so good on top of me,” he continued, “fucking yourself after I’ve gotten you all wet with my mouth. Love it when you ride me, your perfect arse bouncing, your tight little body—“

“Liam! Why don’t you talk about your favorite part about the new album,” Zayn said loudly.

Liam flushed and backed away from Harry, his eyes wide. “My favorite part? We haven’t even recorded it yet,” he offered with a small laugh.

Zayn smiled. “Yeah, but we’ve been talking about the recording process,” he told him slowly. “What are your thoughts on that?”

 

+

 

“Liam.”

Liam bit back a sigh when Zayn reached for his arm as they got back to the hotel. Zayn was one of his best mates, yeah, but he also had Harry giving him mooneyes from where Louis was dragging him into hotel. Liam wanted nothing more than to shrug Zayn off, crowd against Harry in the elevator, and count down the seconds until they were alone, but. That wasn’t going to happen. “Yeah?”

Zayn pulled Liam to the side, slowing him down, ensuring that they got an elevator to themselves and one of their bodyguards. “Whatever was going on during the interview can’t keep going on, okay?” he told him quietly.

Liam chewed on his lower lip and nodded. He was supposed to be The Sensible One, making sure everyone was behaving and saying the right thing, doing the right thing; it was weird to have Zayn chastising him for something. It was a role reversal that he wasn’t ready for. 

“Liam, are you listening?” Zayn asked.

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “I’m listening.”

Zayn sighed. “Look, whatever’s going on with you and Harry—“

“Nothing’s going on,” he mumbled weakly.

Zayn ignored him. “Whatever’s going on is your business, not mine. But try to keep it out of interviews. What if someone had heard whatever he was whispering?”

“It wasn’t anything _bad,_ ” he tried to protest but it, too, was weak because it was a lie. And when did he start lying to his band mates? That wasn’t what he wanted at all. 

“Liam,” Zayn sighed.

“No, I know,” Liam backtracked, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Zayn. I know it was stupid. It won’t happen again.”

“I just want you to be careful,” Zayn told him. “You guys are my best mates, this band is my life. It’s all of our lives. Do you really want to risk that?”

Liam sighed. “Harry’s different. I… _We’re_ different.”

“And if you two want to be together, that’s—I’ll support you, you know I will. I just think discretion is key when we’re in this sort of position, yeah?”

“I agree,” Liam told him as the bell above the elevator dinged, the doors opening, and he stepped out with Zayn and the body guard trailing behind him. 

Zayn reached over and hugged Liam quickly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Now go on. I know Hazza’s waiting for you,” he told him with a wink.

 

+

 

“Christ, Harry, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day,” Liam exclaimed, slamming the door shut behind him. He had to actively not let his jaw drop because he wasn’t expecting to walk into his hotel room to see Harry lying naked on the bed, slowly stroking himself as he waited for Liam to arrive. (Though, as far as surprises went, this was definitely in the Top Five.)

“You were taking too long,” Harry said with a pout.

“Stop touching yourself,” Liam told him.

Harry’s eyes widened but he stopped instantly, hands dropping to his sides. “You gonna join me?”

Liam silently and quickly kicked off his Converse, not even bothering to untie them, and he knew he would be aggravated whenever he had to put them on next but—it didn’t matter. He tugged his shirt over his head as he walked towards the bed, tossing it aside. He paused in front of the bed and unbuckled his jeans, shoving them down his hips along with his pants.

Harry sat up and reached for Liam, tugging him onto the bed.

Liam laughed and awkwardly kicked the fabric away from his legs as Harry kissed at the side of his neck. 

“What did Zayn want?”

Liam shrugged as he finally succeeded in removing the offensive fabric from his legs and he pushed Harry down against the mattress. He kissed him quickly, pushing the curls away from his face. “Been hard for me since the interview, yeah?”

Harry groaned and nodded, wrapping his arms around Liam’s waist. “Yeah, fuck. You’re evil, you know that?”

“I’m evil?” Liam asked with a laugh. “How?”

“Talking all dirty during the interview. It was _very_ unprofessional, Liam,” Harry told him, his voice thick with lust as Liam grinded their hips together.

“Was it?”

Harry nodded.

Liam reached behind him and pulled at one of the pillows, hitting Harry in the side with it. “Budge up,” he told him.

Harry pouted but lifted his hips off the mattress, allowing Liam to slide the pillow beneath him. He sighed happily as his arse rested against the cool fabric, and he blindly reached for Liam’s biceps, stroking against the hard line of muscle and maybe he liked Liam’s muscles a little _too_ much but, hey, whatever, yeah?

“Now I do believe, young Harry, that _you_ were the one who started the dirty talk during the interview,” Liam told him. He settled between Harry’s legs, pushing them apart at the knee, before he lowered his mouth to lick a long stripe up the inside of Harry’s thigh.

Harry giggled before biting his lip, holding back a moan. He still hadn’t gotten over his ticklish spots and the way that Liam was holding him was nearly too much—but not quite. “Liam—“

“It started with something along the lines of…eating you out until you’re wet enough for my dick?”

Harry moaned, nails digging roughly into the skin of Liam’s arms, and he nodded. “Yes—Yes, fuck, Liam—“

“Patience is a—“

“Fuck patience, you’ve had me waiting all bloody day. Get on with it.”

Liam laughed as he pushed Harry’s legs wider apart. He could’ve said something snarky to rile Harry up more, and part of him wanted to, but he had also been waiting all day. He lowered his mouth to Harry’s hole, all hesitancy gone, and if it was anyone else, Liam might’ve felt awkward or uncomfortable with how much he loved the feeling of Harry around him, tight and hot and always ready. 

Because there was something indefinable about the way Harry tasted and, fuck, it should’ve been gross or disgusting but it _wasn’t_ because it was Harry. And Liam couldn’t get enough, he really couldn’t. Harry’s back was arching off the bed, his long legs wrapping around his shoulders as Liam’s tongue darted in and out of his hole, licking across his balls, getting him as wet as he could. Harry was a mess of moans and curse words, cock strained against his stomach, leaking across his abdomen, but he refused to touch himself and, fuck, that was _hot._

Liam pulled away and Harry whimpered as Liam slid two fingers deep inside of him, stretching him out quickly. “Y’alright?”

Harry nodded. “Can you—“

“Yeah,” Liam said with a nod. He pulled his fingers away from Harry, wiping them on the duvet, and he reached for the bottle of lube that Harry must’ve sat on the nightstand because it hadn’t been there earlier, he was _sure_ of it. He slicked up his fingers and pushed them back inside of Harry’s hole.

“Liam—“ Harry panted, thighs trembling as they fell from Liam’s shoulders. “Please—“

“Yeah, okay.” Liam pulled away from Harry again, grabbing his cock and pressing it against Harry’s hole, his precome mixing with the lube. But Harry stopped him, reaching for his hand, stilling him.

“Can I ride you?”

Liam blinked at him. “You’re asking?”

Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Liam told him, rolling over onto his back.

Harry climbed on top of him instantly, reaching for Liam’s cock and pressing it against his hole. “Been thinkin’ about this all day,” Harry told him before sliding down slowly, taking Liam inch by inch, mouth parted and little gasps leaving his lips. 

Liam squeezed his eyes shut as he bottomed out, feeling Harry tight and hot around him, and fuck. Just—fuck. Harry had been thinking about it all day, and he’d been thinking about it all day, and he just wasn’t going to last, there was _no way._ Harry moved slowly on top of him, still adjusting to the feel of Liam inside of him, and Liam rested his hands on Harry’s hips, digging into the soft flesh.

Harry let out a whimper and he fucked himself harder, thighs tightening around Liam’s hips. Liam reached up and smoothed a hand over the hard planes of Harry’s abdomen before wrapping around the base of his cock, jerking him off quickly. Any other time and he would’ve been embarrassed by how quickly he was about to come, but it was Harry, and he didn’t care about that sort of thing. Liam bit his lip and jerked Harry off until he came, spilling over his fist and doubling over, collapsing on Liam’s chest. Liam grabbed Harry’s hips and pulled him off of his cock slowly. 

Harry nuzzled against the side of his neck, nipping at the flesh. “Wanna feel you come on me, Li,” he whispered, breathless, his chest rising and falling heavily. 

Liam bit his lip as he wrapped his hand around himself, jerking himself off quickly, swiping his thumb over the head and he came, spilling over his fist and across the back of Harry’s thighs.

Harry hummed against his neck, smiling and curling around the length of Liam’s body.

“I should clean us up—“

“Not letting you leave,” Harry told him. 

Liam smiled, sucking in a deep breath and allowing his heart rate to slow down. He pulled Harry a little bit closer; he had never been much for snuggling after sex but Harry was…well, different, and he was also sort of like an octopus or something similar, wrapping all of his limbs around Liam and refusing to let him move. Not that Liam really wanted to, because he didn’t, but still. 

“What did Zayn want?” Harry asked again, voice thick with sleep.

“Just…wants us to be careful,” Liam told him, running his fingertips up the curve of Harry’s spine until he found his curls, tugging on them slightly.

Harry hummed against him again. “Careful?”

“Apparently our interview conversation was unprofessional and inappropriate.”

Harry laughed. “If he thinks that’s inappropriate, we definitely shouldn’t tell him about our sex life.”

Liam smiled widely. “He supports whatever we do, apparently.”

“Good. Because m’not keen on lettin’ you go.”

Liam’s smile widened and he pressed his lips against Harry’s forehead. He and Harry hadn’t been on the same page for a long time, and now that they were, he wasn’t exactly going to let Harry go either.


End file.
